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home, the ole biddy shoved off. Rin zipped into a parking space opposite the covered walkway. In the rearview mirror, traffic poured.
    She didn’t think anyone had followed her. Several erratic turns and loop-d-loops saw to that as best as her amateur skills allowed. When she opened the door mid-day heat assaulted her, but the smothering humidity and blazing sun took last place on her list of concerns. She stood, looped the briefcase strap over her shoulder, locked up, and headed across the roasting concrete.
    A high-pitched whine brought her up short. Good thing too. Or she’d have ended up a motorcycle pancake. A sleekly powerful BMW prowled past. The respectable machine barely blipped on her danger radar, even with the pancake possibility. The man with the capable beast between his thighs, however, pinged out her sensors on dueling fronts: a headboard-banging fuck and run-for-her-life.
    His leanly muscled physique punctuated the badass-ness of distressed jeans and a threadbare baby blue T-shirt that had nothing to do with a department store and everything to do with life lived on the rugged side of humanity. Whether from the color of the shirt or the force of her reaction, Rin suddenly thought about the wildly disturbing waiter from Restaurant Barcelona.
    “Luck.” The name croaked from her dry throat.
    The blacked-out full-face helmet the driver wore concealed his identity. The man didn’t look in her direction. That stony disregard clenched her stomach. Rin wasn’t conceited about her looks, but she was beautiful. For better or worse she favored her mother as much as identical twins mirror one another. When she crossed a street, men and women rubbernecked and catcalled way too often. But not this guy.
    Rin licked her lips, clutched her bag, and did a Carrie Bradshaw dash up the sidewalk and into the building. The perfume of the infirm hung thick in the air. At least it took care of the ridiculous heat pooling between her legs. It also gave her appreciation for the energetic rattling of her heart.
    “Ms. Lee?” Jeanine lifted her hands in praise. Her rose cheeks and gaping smile kept Rin from worry. She rushed from behind the tall desk. “The senator is having a great day. He recognized me twice this morning.” A quick wave and even faster feet urged Rin to follow. “I tell you, it made my week. It’s been a while since he’s come back to us. I’m pleasantly surprised to see you, and I know he’ll be overjoyed.”
    In spite of all the recent drama a smile arched Rin’s mouth. She put her Nines to work on the linoleum, knowing she’d pay for her track-and-field training in them today and not caring. Paw-Paw came to bat for her. She’d run to West Virginia and back to see the light of recognition in his eyes.
    “Senator Lee, I have a special visitor for you.” Jeanine rounded the corner to her grandfather’s room and stopped so abruptly Rin crashed into her back.
    “I’m sorry,” Rin said.
    The nurse froze in place.
    “What is it?” Rin asked, scared to hear the answer. She peered around Jeanine’s torso. Her grandfather sat slumped to the side in a chair facing the window. “No,” she cried before she could cap her emotions.
    “Why don’t you wait outside, Ms. Lee?”
    Rin dipped below the nurse’s arm and burned the skin of her knees sliding to a halt next to the desk chair. This was her chair. The place she sat during every visit to hold his hand and watch him sleep.
    “Paw-Paw?” She grabbed his frail, icy hand and brought it to her cheek. A sob shook her, but she bit the awful sound back. God, but she hated old people. Old people insisted on dying and, damn it to hell, it hurt.
    Jeanine placed two fingers on his carotid. “He has a pulse. A strong one.” She sighed. “Senator?” Her petite hands patted his shoulder. “Senator,” she hollered.
    Former US Senator Cotton Lee blinked his green eyes and lifted his head as though it weighed thirty pounds. The smoke of cataracts